


Scratch and Sting

by helens78



Category: King Arthur (2004) RPF
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dominance/submission, Multi, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-17
Updated: 2004-07-17
Packaged: 2017-10-05 11:41:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keira has instructions for Ioan; both of them have something for Clive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scratch and Sting

_Fuck._

Clive hits the wall hard, cheek pressed up against brick, and Ioan's strong enough to pin him there and put his lips at Clive's ear.

Fuck, no. Not his lips. Teeth. And they're biting into his earlobe and now his tongue's running around the curve of Clive's ear and _oh God oh God oh God_, even through denim his cock's feeling the scratch and sting of the bricks, nowhere near cool enough to take away a shred of his arousal.

"He looks like he wants it." And that's Keira, standing off to the side. "But he doesn't look like he wants it _enough_."

And goddamn it, she's barely past eighteen, she shouldn't know how to caress words with her tongue like that and make them flow off into the air in a way that _is not_, cannot possibly be legal.

"He will," Ioan promises, and he bites Clive's ear again, sharp and stinging. Clive shudders. Hard, twice, and then he goes still, hands groping at the wall, palms scratching against brick. Fingertips digging for purchase. Clive groans as Ioan presses himself shoulders to knees against Clive's body, all at once, and _oh God oh fuck please yes_, Ioan's cock is as hard as Clive expected it to be, nestled up against the cleft of Clive's arse.

"What do you think?" Keira asks. "Think he'd rather just be pinned against brick and have your cock in him on spit and a prayer? Or would he look better on his knees, King Arthur making himself a whore for Lancelot and his queen?"

_Jesus._ Both sound bloody _fantastic_ to Clive, and he's not going to complain about either of them.

"I think he likes the wall," Ioan says with a grin. He slides his hands up Clive's arms, pinning Clive's wrists above his head. "What do you think?"

Keira takes a step forward. And then another, and finally she's standing at Clive's side, and she runs a fingernail down his cheek. "Take his shirt off," she whispers.

Ioan steps back enough to make it possible. He curls his fingers into the waistband of Clive's sweatshirt, pulling it up, the surface of the shirt catching against brick as he tugs it up and away. He tosses it aside and Keira catches it before it hits the ground; the pavement here is foul.

"Better," Keira says. She shrugs into Clive's shirt and it dwarfs her, would look ridiculous if it weren't for the fact that she's just _ordered_ Ioan to get the damn thing off Clive, and now Clive's bare from the waist up, pressed against brick, already feeling places on his chest that are going to be red and raw from the rough texture of the wall.

"Just better?" Ioan teases, pulling his cheek away from Clive's to bite at the back of Clive's neck. "What more does my lady require?"

"Your lady," Keira smirks right back, "thinks you should be getting those trousers of his down around his knees. Pressing his cock into the wall. Making him grunt for it while you're working your way into him."

Clive groans out loud, eyes closing. _Please. Please, please, fucking please._

Keira reaches forward again, fingernails scratching all the way down Clive's side. It stings too much to tickle, but he jerks under her hand anyway, moving backwards into Ioan's body, then forward into the wall. "_Do it_," she whispers.

Ioan's not going to argue with an order like that. He tugs Clive's hips away from the wall so he can reach around and undo his jeans. Then it's a matter of seconds before he's got Clive's jeans tugged down to his knees, and he puts a hand on the small of Clive's back and pushes, Clive's hard cock trapped between brick wall and lower belly. "Like that?" Ioan asks.

"No -- let him have a step away from the wall," Keira decides. Ioan complies, pulling Clive back a short distance, keeping his hands settled on Clive's hips when he's done. "Better," Keira says. There's room enough for her to work a hand between Clive and the wall now, and she takes advantage of it, sliding her hand up Clive's chest. "Cross your arms at the wrist," she says, thumb finding a nipple, thumbnail scratching across it.

Clive's lips are parted, breathing unsteady, and he doesn't even nod as he does what he's been told.

"Good." Keira slides her hand back down Clive's chest, tangles her fingers into the curls above his cock. She looks around Clive's body back to Ioan. "_Take him._"

There's the brass sound of a zipper, the sound of foil-paper giving way. Keira digs into a pocket for a lube packet and tosses it to Ioan, who catches it. A soft pop and a moment's breath later, he's sliding slick fingers into Clive. A few fast strokes to prep him and then Ioan's wrapping a hand around the base of his cock, holding Clive steady with one hand on his hip while he presses his cock forward and works his way in _hard_ and on orders, with Keira watching every second.

So many places to look. The line of Clive's body. The expression on his face. Ioan's face tight with concentration. She's not quite angled well enough to see Ioan's cock disappearing into Clive's body, but there are other nights and other alleys for that.

Clive's cock, maybe, heavy and dark with a bead of liquid swelling at the tip. She dabs it up with her finger and lifts her hand, smearing it over Clive's lips. "Hungry for it, aren't you," she murmurs.

When there's no answer, she glances back at Ioan again. "Don't just stand there," she murmurs. "_Fuck him._"

Ioan keeps one hand on Clive's hip, brings the other up to his shoulder. And then he doesn't need any more instruction; he simply draws back, pushes forward _hard_, thrusts into Clive hard and fast and brutal, selfish, just taking him, just _using_ him, fucking him like he's the hole they've decided on for the evening.

Maybe he is. His whole world's narrowed down to Ioan's cock driving into his arse and Keira's words drilling into his thoughts. Anything else he is doesn't matter.

Keira slides her hand down again, curls it around Clive's cock. "Don't wait for him, Ioan," she murmurs. "He'll come or he won't. It really doesn't matter."

But just the threat's enough to have Clive biting down on his lower lip, so close he can taste it. His palms flatten against the brick, and he tilts his hips back into Ioan's grasp, grunting softly and then louder with every harsh thrust.

Ioan notices first, the motion making him tighten his hands on Clive's hips to keep the angle from sending him over too fast. "Christ, he's a slut," he pants.

"Wants it more than he'll admit to, I'm sure," Keira says, giving Clive's cock a soft twist on the way up. And that's all it takes; he lets out his breath all at once, hips bucking forward, gasping for air as he comes over her hand, slick and hot with his whole body tense and trembling.

Ioan doesn't last long after that. He sinks his fingernails into Clive's skin and jerks his hips back, shoving forward with uneven, inelegant strokes, until his teeth grit together to hold back a shout and he comes hard, head tilted back and eyes slitted shut.

Keira tugs her hand out from between Clive and the wall, and she slides out of his shirt, using it to clean her hand. "Mm. That was lovely," she says. She waits for Ioan to back away, and then drapes Clive's shirt back over his shoulders. "I suppose he'll need help dressing."

"No--" Clive's voice nearly breaks as he finally pulls his arms away from the wall. "No," he repeats, a little softer. He makes a grab for his shirt as it goes sliding down off his shoulders. "No. I'm all right. I'm--" He can't quite make himself say _fine_. "I don't need help," he insists. He tugs the shirt on over his head and grunts as he pulls up his jeans. "I'm all right."

"Suit yourself." Keira slides a hand down his back, runs her fingertips under the hem of his shirt. "If you're all right -- then we're going back in. If you need anything, though--"

"I don't," Clive repeats. "Please." He's still facing the wall, head bent down. "Just go."

Keira wraps an arm around Ioan's waist and draws him away, with Ioan glancing back over his shoulder every few steps. By the time they disappear through the pub's back door, Clive still hasn't moved.

He moves after he hears the door shut, though, turning around and letting his weight fall back against the bricks. He runs a hand over his face. _I'm all right._ He exhales softly, pulling himself together. He's going to need to go back into the bar soon. _I'm fine._

_-end-_


End file.
